Practice Vignettes for Caramella
by Wiggles123
Summary: Here are some short stories that I wrote for practice, balancing classic gangster novel with Futurama humor, all while remaining in character. IT'S HARD TO DO! (Frender/fender/fendship/) These are Fry and Bender stories!
1. Dresses

Dresses (WB):

A pink one, a blue one, one fringed with black lace, another velvet and maroon, all laid out across that bed fit for a queen like a carnival, like a box of colorful sweets. Bender shuffled back and forth between the bed and the boudoir, whisking one after the other behind the nearly-opaque set up to wriggle himself into, minding the pearls and lace. Fry enjoyed the blotchy silhouette from behind the veil as he sat on the mattress's edge, grinning each time the robot stepped free and spun too fast for his dangling jewelry to catch up with him.

"Well, are ya gonna say somethin' or are ya waiting for me to go obsolete? Yay or nay, Meatbag?" Bender inquired gruffly, one knuckle on his hip and Fry continued to eye him with glee.

"Gee, I dunno, they're all nice." Fry replied through that lopsided smile of his, the smile that emphasized the crinkles of his eyes and the gaps in his teeth. Bender swiftly shook off whatever fond feelings that it aroused and thumped him on the back of the head with his silver palm.

 _"All nice_ ain't gonna cut it this time." Bender scolded as he pivoted to pry open the swollen hinges of the closet so he could fork through his many dresses yet again, trying to spot any he may have missed. "I gotta pick one by seven and I still need extra time to throw some sorta dessert together before the party. Now, on an unrelated note, do humans like stale marshmallow-and-potato casserole?"

"Huh?" Fry snapped out of some absent-minded trance and shot the robot an awfully innocent look. "Oh, uh, I probably would."

Bender mimicked the redhead in a high-pitched voice and rolled his optics as he swung a sequined cocktail from it's hanger. He then tossed it to a sparkling heap in the corner with the other rejects and returned to his hurried digging in the closet.

"Jeez, Bender, does it really matter what you wear to this stupid shindig? It's only at Amy's-"

"You listen here, buddy." Bender reeled to retort sternly with a stout finger between Fry's eyebrows. "Amy has been doin' nothing but being a huge pain in my ass for the past month about designer brands or some sort of 'authenticity, best-of-the-best' crap she keeps pressing, so don't you dare think I'm showing up to her daddy's poorly-decorated Martian mansion without the best damn dress that's ever been on the market and a dessert so deliciously fattening she won't be able to fit her ass into that tiny pink Halston ever again!"

Fry stayed quiet, cross eyed at the digit hovering threateningly in front of his nose. All this time with Bender was making him a little better at picking battles, and he really wasn't up for a crusade today.

"Now." Bender filled in the silence. "Let's make this easy, Fleshwad. Which dress do you like the least?"

"Uh, the uh- The blue one." Fry answered, not truly remembering what the blue dress even looked like. He was trying to spare himself from a whooping.

"Then blue it is." Bender whispered, tapping his manicured claws against Fry's cheek rather roughly and teetering his way to the bed to fold the showy garment over his slender arm and bring with him to the boudoir once again.


	2. Second Date

November 18th, 3071

The second date (WB):

Fry sat, tight lipped and wide eyed in his fancy chair though he made no attempt to look in Bender's direction. That _wa_ s his name, wasn't it? Bender? Fry gulped when the robot across from him began to tap his three stout, solid fingers against the expensive black cherry wood of the table. The classy crowd in the restaurant hummed with conversation, yet still the table they sat at was uncomfortably wordless.

"So, you say you're a real robot?" Asked Fry politely, still not trying to make much eye contact with Bender's unamiable glare. "That's pretty cool."

"Look, pal." The robot gruffly replied and pointed his shiny manicure at the redhead. "Can we knock it off with all the small talk and crap? I don't even _consider_ second base with any jerk tryna ro- _mance_ me or whatever the hell you humans do. I know why you brought me here. And I know what you were after yesterday, too- so don't try to pull a fast one on me."

Fry's stare was open, dubious. "What're we talkin' about now?"

"I'm talkin' about _you,_ Meatbag. _You,_ tryna get a peek at what's under this skirt- But you don't fool me for a second. I know there's a wolf in that innocent little sheep costume you have on." Bender's optics squinted menacingly.

Fry looked around to make sure Bender was really talking to him, his brow quirked in confusion. "It's not Halloween yet, is it? I don't have any costumes."

"... You're a real bright one, ain't ya, Fry?"

"Oh, for sure, man. That's what my mom always said."

Bender snarled, "Groovy." And his optics rolled.

Fry looked the robot up and down for a moment. He couldn't believe he was really there, on a sort of date with an authentic robot. This robot was hard to read, how his amber eyes were the only true conveyors of emotion and how he never seemed to smile, not even a hint of a grin on both of the occasions that Fry had been with him now. But my oh my, did he look good in a turquoise dress.

"I like your earrings." Fry said softly after a few moments, "They remind me of Christmas."

"What the hell is _Christmas?_ Is it illegal?"

"You've never heard of Christmas? Man, back in _my_ time, Christmas was everything! It was the best holiday ya ever heard of in your life! Everyone got presents- and the commercials would start the second the Fourth of July was over an-"

"Woah, woah, woah, back up, Buster. Whattaya mean, 'my time?' You don't look all that old. You certainly ain't older than _me."_ Bender leaned in, trying to examine any hints of wrinkles on the redhead's face, but soon came up empty.

"Oh, I'm not from the 3070's. I'm a Freezoid from the 1990's." Fry answered offhandedly. "The only one, actually. All the other Freezoids are from the early 3000's or whatever. But I'm only 26 years old, really."

"Ho-ho-hold the phone." Bender snickered, raising up his silver hand. "You're from the Stupid Ages? That's _rich!_ HAHA! God, this explains so much!"

Bender continued to laugh, really laugh. Fry's expression gradually became less amused.

"Why does everyone do this?" Fry sighed and stood up from his chair, then dropped a small wad of bills on the table. "Here's for the food. And the tip. I guess I'll get going-"

"Hey, hey! Get back here, siddown. Sheesh, you humans can't take a joke."

Fry did what the robot commanded but glared down at his shoes.

"Hey, buddy. Look a' me."

He peeked up, and somehow Bender had managed to light a cigarette and stick it between his mouthplates beforehand, because the stick was billowing from his mouth when Fry had done what was asked. For a brief moment, the two just watched each other, and Bender's optics scanned over the details of the picture in front of him. One thing seemed to catch his eye in particular.

"You can't just bail on a date as pretty as me, Sugar. And I'll tell you what. If you can explain to me what the deal is with that ring on your little finger there, I'll take you back to my place after this and make ya some _coffee._ To make up for those mean things I been sayin'. Okay, baby?"

The robot's eyes were dim, seductive. Fry swallowed.

"I'm married. Technically. But she's never around, I guess." The redhead blinked down, blushing. "I don't love her and she doesn't love me much either. Thought I'd try something new. I always liked guys better, anyway…"

"Hoo, that's juicy!" Bender laughed and took a quick puff from his cigarette. "Married man at a gay bar- naughty."

"I didn't come back to get judged, sir."

"You'll _know_ when I'm judging you. And don't call me _Sir._ The name's Bender- so use it, but don't wear it out."

"Okay." Fry retorted. And it was quiet for a few moments.

Bender looked at the man across from him, slouching, grimy, greased back hair, inferior human garbage in a woolly, beige sweater vest. But something about his round, hazel eyes was very sweet. They made Bender's insides tickle, as he recalled what had happened between him and Fry the night prior.

Reluctantly, Bender cleared his throat. "Hey, uh. I never really got the chance to thank you for what you did last night. It was pretty great. Not as great as _me,_ but still."

"Don't worry about it." Said Fry with a half smile on his face.

"And, uh. Maybe you were right." The words felt like acid in the robot's mouth. "Maybe you _are_ a nice guy kinda. I know alotta guys who woulda done a lot worse to me if they found me like you did."

"Water under the bri- _Ooof!"_

Suddenly, Fry found himself being sharply yanked over the short tabletop by the collar so Bender could press his electric mouth crudely to Fry's lips. It felt like it had the night before, all tingly and sparky, except this time Bender was not nearly as intoxicated, and the kiss was consensual on Fry's part.

Everyone was staring at the unusual display, but at this point, neither of them cared.

"So." Bender panted between kisses, "Coffee at my place?"

"Actually," Replied Fry against Bender's mouth, "I think I have some in my car."

Bender slowly pulled away and watched Fry's eyes to make sure he was picking up the right signal. And for the first time, the redhead thought he saw something akin to a sly smile in Bender's optics.


End file.
